I'm Here
by CharlieCaller
Summary: Hawkeye has to be there for BJ when he falls ill. COMPLETED! Pls RR
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The characters in the following story do not belong to me (unfortunately) but they belong to M*A*S*H and its related companies. I am borrowing them and not making a profit from them.  
  
Note: Written from BJ's POV.  
  
Title: I'm Here  
  
Describe myself in three words. Feverish. Nauseous. Drowsy. That's me right now. The fact that Hawkeye and me were in a jeep, bouncing along the Korean roads at a rate of knots did not help my empty stomach. I hadn't had sleep in over twenty-six hours, and my forehead could have fried an egg. I wish I hadn't just thought of food.  
  
"Fun conference," Hawkeye, who was driving, said sarcastically. "The first hour or so was worthwhile enough, that new technique for cutting down on amputations is good to know. But did we really have to spend three hours listening to how to decorate a military operating theatre?"  
  
Hawkeye took my non-answer as a sign to continue his ramble. "The highlight had to be that guy at lunch who collapsed. Recognised him from somewhere, but can't remember."  
  
I remembered where. He sat next to me during the conference, and during lunch.  
  
"Doctor said he had some kind of virus or something. I saw him when they carried him out. He looked half-dead." Hawkeye paused for a moment, in thought. "Come to think of it, so did the meat we had."  
  
You had, you mean. I wasn't hungry. I'd felt fine on the way to the conference, but about an hour after the lunch break I began to feel more and more sick. I thought I was being bored to death, but I wasn't hungry at lunch, and the journey back home wasn't helping.  
  
"You okay there, Beej? You're a bit quiet," Hawkeye noticed as he continued driving. I didn't dare open my mouth to reply, in case I threw up.  
  
"You're probably just tired. I don't see why. What else was that lecture for apart from sleep?"  
  
I couldn't take it anymore. I had to get out of the jeep; I knew I was going to be sick. In my delirium I didn't think to ask Hawkeye to stop the jeep, that would have taken too much time, and I couldn't have lasted that long. I just stepped out onto the road that was flying beneath me.  
  
I tumbled and rolled along the hard track, my body in agony. Once I was stationary, I crawled to the side of the road and proceeded to empty what little food was in my stomach. I had barely enough strength to support myself on my hands and knees.  
  
Hawkeye had stopped the jeep as soon as he saw me leave it. He ran over to me, probably in shock at what he had just seen. He held my burning forehead and rubbed my back soothingly.  
  
Once I had finished, I crawled away from where I had been sick and collapsed at Hawkeye's side. He instantly began to check me over, though he didn't need to. He already knew how sick I was.  
  
"What a time to do an impression of my lunch," he mumbled. "You don't know how lucky you are that all you got was a bleeding arm from that stunt back there."  
  
"Hawkeye, I'm sorry," I rasped.  
  
He looked at me oddly. "You're sorry? BJ, you have nothing to be sorry about. It wasn't your fault that ill guy sat next to you. He shouldn't have been at the lecture if he was that ill."  
  
"I should have told you. I didn't want to worry you," I kept saying.  
  
"Beej, it's not your fault," he repeated.  
  
That was when something weird happened. Something beyond my or anyone's explaining. Everything went numb. My vision blurred and everything went black. Everything went cold and I couldn't move. I tried to speak but nothing happened. I could only hear what was going on around me.  
  
Hawkeye saw what looked to be unconsciousness, and began to panic. "The guy in the conference wasn't this sick," he muttered. I think he was feeling for a pulse in my neck, but I was so cold that it was difficult to know.  
  
He must have found one, because he calmed slightly. "Hang in there, Beej," he whispered.  
  
Footsteps crunched away. In my feverish state of mind, I thought Hawkeye was leaving me. Thoughts raced through my clouded mind, and my breathing sped up. I couldn't control the wheezing, and alarm spread over me.  
  
The footsteps returned, this time sprinting. "Beej," Hawkeye gasped. He panicked, and then realised what had caused my anxiety. "BJ, can you hear me? Look, buddy, I'm here for you. Not gonna leave you, okay?"  
  
I hated feeling so vulnerable. My breathing was still fast, but at least there was someone there with me. Why was I being like this? This wasn't me. It didn't occur to me that it was only because I was ill. My anxiety built up and my breathing got faster.  
  
"I'm here, it's okay," Hawkeye soothed. He was doing something, I think, because I was calming down a bit. Probably rubbing my shoulder. "You're going to be fine, you hear? I won't let anything happen to you."  
  
I was calming down, my breathing was getting back to normal, but Hawkeye wasn't satisfied yet, so he carried on. "These are the moments when people tell other people things they should have said long ago. This moment won't be an exception."  
  
He paused for a second, perhaps gathering his thoughts. "Thank you for being my best friend. You've been there for me since Day One, you've helped me through such a lot, and you never once asked for anything in return. I should have looked out for you more, and I will do in the future. I swear that promise on my career as a doctor."  
  
I was calm now. Numbness was seeping away. Hawkeye must have forgotten for a moment that I had the ability to hear him. He sounded like he had cracked. "Please don't die, BJ." Die? Who said anything about dying? Now I was scared again. Scared, but also frustrated. I had to try and communicate with Hawkeye somehow. I tried to remember where my hand would be, my left hand, where Hawkeye's voice sounded like it was coming from. Was that it? I felt something warm and cold at the same time. It took a lot of strength, but I moved it, just a bit. And then a bit more. I found Hawkeye's knee, judging from the feel of the khaki material. I wanted to find his hand, to comfort him, and probably myself too.  
  
"Beej?" Hawkeye must have seen me moving. I could feel myself again. I felt Hawkeye take my hand, holding it for support. "BJ, can you hear me? I'm gonna get the jeep and the radio and I'll be back here, okay? If you understand, erm, find my thumb." I did so, and I heard the jeep engine some seconds later.  
  
"I'm back, okay?" Hawkeye told me, grabbing my hand to let me know. "I'm going to radio home, to tell them." I heard the radio being thumped.  
  
"Hawkeye calling 4077th M*A*S*H," he called into it.  
  
"4077th M*A*S*H, Radar here. What's up, Hawkeye?"  
  
"Radar, listen carefully. BJ's very sick. I am a bit less than an hour away from camp. Tell Sherm, okay?"  
  
"You can tell the Colonel yourself, he's here," Radar said. "Colonel!"  
  
"Hawkeye, what's the story?" Sherman asked.  
  
"BJ's got some kind of virus. He's got fever, he vomited earlier, he's probably delirious, and he sort of passed out but he's half moving. It's crazy!"  
  
"What's his status now?"  
  
"Half unconscious, but he's reacting to my voice and he's started to move a bit."  
  
"All right, Hawkeye. Get him home ASAP, we'll be ready for him here. But, don't put him in the jeep too fast."  
  
"Sure thing," Hawkeye replied, switching off the radio.  
  
"You're gonna be okay," he told me once more. He began to pick up my lifeless body. "Me, on the other hand, I'm going to get a hernia!"  
  
He settled me into the back of the jeep, and made me as comfortable as possible. He was about to drive off when he turned around. He found my nearest hand, took it, and told me, "I told you I'd look out for you."  
  
I was asleep by the time he started the engine.  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N. A short fic, one that started off as a dream of all things. I just couldn't get this one to stop bugging me, but I finally got it out. I'm taking a vote, is it worth carrying on and making into a longer story? I'm open for suggestions. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:  
  
Luckily for me, Hawkeye drove more smoothly back to the camp. If he hadn't, I would have surely thrown up again. Then again, maybe I wouldn't. I still hadn't found my voice or my sight, and I began to wonder if they would ever work again.  
  
Hawkeye kept holding my hand the whole way through, a way of telling me that he was still there. I hated feeling so weak, so helpless, but there was nothing I could do about it. Throughout the journey, Hawkeye kept talking to me.  
  
"You're going to be fine," he told me over and over again. Thing was, each time he said it, he sounded less and less convincing. I was scared, how I wanted to tell my best friend how scared I was. I tried, like I had done when I wanted to move. My breathing sped up again, and the wheezing began again.  
  
Hawkeye stopped the jeep. "Beej?" He rubbed the side of my arm, as he couldn't reach my back from the way I was laying down, but it had the same effect. I wanted to cry, to run, anything to make it all go away.  
  
Hawkeye felt my forehead and gasped. "You're on fire!" He took my hand again and started the jeep. "Only five minutes. Hold on, BJ. Just hold on."  
  
"It's okay, BJ. We're back home again. You're gonna be fine." Hawkeye stopped the jeep and I heard footsteps, followed by Colonel Potter's voice. "You're going to be fine, son," he told me. I was being moved, taken somewhere. I could hear voices belonging to Colonel Potter and Hawkeye.  
  
"IV, check. How'd he get all the cuts and bruises?"  
  
"He stepped out of the jeep when it was still going," Hawkeye informed him.  
  
Potter gasped slightly. "That's a new one," he said calmly.  
  
"You only see stunts like that when you've got a fever of."  
  
"103, 104 degrees," a female voice filled in.  
  
"Woah," I heard Radar mutter.  
  
"Pierce, I want you in my office in ten minutes, and I want to know everything that happened. That's an order." Said Colonel Potter smartly.  
  
Blind sleep, that was what I was getting. Tossing and turning beneath my covers, asleep but not gaining any energy from it. I was too hot for that, too hot and too sick.  
  
Hawkeye wasn't back from Colonel Potter's office. How long had he been there? How long had I been back in the camp? I didn't know where anything was. I was on the verge of going crazy!  
  
I shuddered as I suddenly felt some hands holding me down firmly. Let me go, said the voices inside my head.  
  
"BJ, it's me! It's Hawkeye!"  
  
Let me go, Hawkeye. I'm hot, I need to move.  
  
Something cool was placed on my forehead. The bliss! I stopped thrashing about, and breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
"Pierce? What's Hunnicutt doing in bed?" Frank. Why did they make him a doctor?  
  
"His cot's being painted so we moved him in here for the time being," Hawkeye's voice dripped with sarcasm.  
  
"Oh," Frank sounded dumbfounded. "Couldn't he have the one in the Supply Tent?"  
  
Hawkeye had to take a breath before continuing. "Actually, Frank, BJ is ill. Got fever. That's when you've got an elevated temperature. He's been sick. I guess you know what that is."  
  
"All right, Pierce, no need to dumb it all down for me!"  
  
"That's a matter of opinion."  
  
Frank must have had suicidal tendencies when he started to say his next sentence. "It's our proud boys who need the bed-space, you know. The ones who go out into the war and get wounded, not the ones who are unlucky enough to get a virus from somewhere."  
  
I heard Hawkeye mutter some curse words before the chair scraped back. It sounded like I struggle somewhere. It was so frustrating not being able to see anything. Colonel Potter's voice rang out. "Pierce! Burns!"  
  
What was going on? I threw the towel off of my head and tried to sit up. Hawkeye must have seen or heard, because he came back over again. "It's okay," he muttered. "I'm here."  
  
"Colonel, do something!" Burns whined.  
  
Hawkeye read the frustration on my face. "Guess you wanna know what just happened?" I nodded my head.  
  
"Colonel!" Burns whinged louder.  
  
"Pipe down, Burns. Hawkeye, stay here, and Burns, you get to my office."  
  
Wordlessly, Frank left. Hawkeye began. "You might have heard the snide remarks from Ferret Face back there. If you didn't, I'm not going to repeat them to you. So, I got up off my chair and started chasing Frank around the ward. I got him, and would have strangled him if Sherm hadn't have come in."  
  
I smiled. I could just imagine it. Too bad I couldn't see it. Hold up. Something felt different. What was different?  
  
"BJ, you opened your eyes!" Hawkeye said, with hope in his voice.  
  
I did? So why couldn't I see anything? I shook my head in disbelief. Hawkeye put his hand on my shoulder. "You'll get better." He remoistened the towel and put it back on my head.  
  
They must have thought I was asleep. I probably was, but the thing about not having sight is that you might not know when you're asleep or not, added to delirium too. I could hear Hawkeye and Colonel Potter talking in hushed whispers.  
  
"No change?" Asked the Colonel.  
  
"Nothing," said Hawkeye with regret. "He threw up in his sleep, didn't even know it. His temp is still over 103, and he hasn't regained either his sight or the ability to talk. I just don't know what to do."  
  
"Radar's trying to find out what happened to the man you said had the same disease, and he'll see if he's on the same horse."  
  
"It's driving me crazy, and it's not doing a lot for BJ's sanity either. He can't talk, can't see anything. If his temperature doesn't go down soon."  
  
"You can't think like that, Hawkeye. You just have to make sure you're there for whatever he needs, okay? I wish Father Mulcahy were here with a prayer, but he's in Seoul for a few days."  
  
Hawkeye didn't say anything. I guess his face said it all. Colonel Potter continued. "Hey, you've been in worse spots, and you've come out smiling."  
  
"There's no worse spot than having your best friend's life on the line."  
  
That's all I needed to hear. My life hanging in balance, and there wasn't anything that could be done about it. Terrific. What's a guy to do when you hear that?  
  
Three days later, Hawkeye came and sat beside me after a long day of surgery. "How are you?"  
  
I'd adapted to some sort of sign language during the last four days. I put my hand to my forehead, saying I felt hot. Hawkeye reacted with the wet towel for me.  
  
Hawkeye and Colonel Potter had had more conversations over the past few days about my health, when they thought I was asleep. Although my temperature had gone down a degree, nothing else was happening. I hadn't eaten or drunk anything in three days, and according to Hawkeye I was wasting away. The only thing I had done was to throw up. Several times, I had gone in and out of spells of numbness and wheezy breathing. Thinking back through the days was hell. There were no images, just what I'd heard. It was driving me crazy! Oh great, one of those wheezing fits was on its way. I'd gotten myself so agitated.  
  
As my breathing sped up, I heard Hawkeye's chair scrape back. He took my hand. "It's okay, Beej. I'm here, okay? Take deep breaths and you'll be fine."  
  
Normally, it worked, but this time something was different. I was beyond hearing things, well, I heard them but nothing registered. I was getting so short of breath. Everything faded out, and all awareness left me. I passed out. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
  
Hearing and feeling came back to me, slowly, painfully. I heard the general noise around the hospital that I had become so used to. Still no sight or voice.  
  
I heard footsteps and someone sat down on the seat next to me. They took my hand and spoke. "BJ," Hawkeye's voice began. It didn't sound a lot like him. It sounded too tense.  
  
I squeezed his hand a bit, to let him know I could hear.  
  
"Are you okay there? Want to know what happened?"  
  
I squeezed his hand twice.  
  
"Well, okay. During that fit, you lost consciousness, and you stopped breathing."  
  
I tensed, and my hand clenched tighter around Hawkeye's. I felt so much like crying, but I wasn't sure if any tears would come. When would it end? Would it ever end? I put my hands over my eyes as a habit. I had no sight to block anything from  
  
"You're going to be fine," Hawkeye told me, taking back my hand. "Just hold, Beej, and you'll get through this."  
  
I'd heard it all before, over the past five days or however long I'd been ill, and was I better? No, I wasn't. If anything, I was getting worse. I couldn't go on, I just couldn't.  
  
That settled it. Through the delirium, I had a plan. A couple of days before the trip, I remembered Frank talking to Hawkeye and me about a gun he had recently requisitioned from someone. I had seen it, and it looked like a fairly small weapon, but still lethal. I remember Frank saying he would wear it all the time except when he was operating and asleep. When he was operating it would be kept under lock and key, and when he was asleep it would be at the end of his cot.  
  
Either I was going to die slowly or painfully, or it could all be over in a few short moments. Of course, the second option was more inviting. My plan was that I would wait until nightfall and then head over to the Swamp to get the gun and then the rest would be history. There were numerous flaws in my plan, such as someone would see me, and then of course there was the little problem of me not being able to see or talk, but I was so determined that I would do anything.  
  
It was easy enough to tell when nightfall was. That was when there was no noise to be heard around the camp, and when Colonel Potter took Hawkeye away from beside me and told him to get some sleep.  
  
Although Hawkeye left, Colonel Potter didn't. He took the chair that Hawkeye had once sat in, and he started to talk to me. "You may think that you're face is pretty useless right now, since you can't see and you can't talk. That's not altogether true, though. You don't know it, but your face is like a book, in that we can read it. Not everyone, though, just those who know you. I can, and so can Hawkeye. Know what we can see? You look ready to surrender, like you've given up. Don't start waving the white flag yet, BJ. You'll be back on the horse in no time."  
  
Though it was nice to see that someone cared, I was well past the stage of both listening to reason, and past the stage of seeing anything positive. I wanted out, and once Colonel Potter left I was about to get it.  
  
One slight problem was the duty nurse, but I knew that luck was on my side when I heard light snoring drifting. It couldn't have been one of the patients, because they never seemed to be healthy enough to snore.  
  
I had an IV attached to me, but I ripped it out of my arm. If I was going to die then I wasn't going to let a bleeding arm pull me down. I sat up my bed, swung my feet over the side of the bed and let my feet touch the floor.  
  
I had to take a minute to adapt to a standing position after spending five days lying down in my bed. I then realised that I had no idea what part of the ward I was in. I decided to take a left, and work my way along the room by grabbing the end of each bed as I did. Three beds later I found the door, and stuck my arm outside. There was a breeze, telling me that this was the outside. I now knew where I was.  
  
I took the directions to the Swamp. Along the way I encountered Klinger. "Password?" he asked.  
  
I shrugged my shoulders, and he neared and realised who I was. "Captain Hunnicutt, should you be out of bed?"  
  
I gave him a thumbs-up sign, and he told me to proceed. I hated lying to anyone, especially Klinger, who was obviously concerned about my health, but I had an aim in mind. My last aim, I suppose.  
  
I found a tent. I opened the door slowly, and felt around the other side of it. When I felt the dartboard on it, I knew I was in the right tent.  
  
I quietly shut the door, and felt around at the end of Frank's bed for the gun. Sure enough, I found it in the holster. I managed to drop it on the floor, cursing in my head.  
  
"What?" Came Hawkeye's half-awake voice. He must have seen me in front of him. "Beej? What are you doing here? Better yet, what are you doing out of bed?" I heard the bed creak as he shifted, probably into a sitting position. He must have seen the gun that I was fumbling around on the floor for. I found it, and put it into my hand.  
  
"My God," Hawkeye gasped. I heard furious creaking on the bed as I put the gun to my temple. I wish I could have said goodbye, but I had no voice. I squeezed the trigger and a shot rang out into the still night silence.  
  
A/N: How's it going? This chapter came to me in a dream last night and I couldn't get it down quick enough. It will be continued. :) 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
I was pinned to the floor, and the gun had been pulled out of my hand and thrown across the floor. I tried to scramble to where I had heard the gun scrape across the floor to, but my hands were pulled back. Let me get the gun, I thought to myself. After the struggle, I only had the energy to collapse in a heap.  
  
The huge weight was crushing me, and I had to find out what it was. I used my hand to feel, and I found out after I poked them in the eye was it was a human. After some more feeling, a shock of smooth hair told me it was Hawkeye.  
  
Hawkeye removed his weight from me. He'd stopped me dying, stopped me ending my life. I didn't know whether to thank him or hate him for it. It was my wish to die, and he'd stopped me. But then, if I had have killed myself, I would have surely regretted it.  
  
Hawkeye tried to move towards me, but I shuffled away. That must have broken his heart, but I was still angry. I wanted to end the pain, but he stopped it. He carried on my pain. Of course I wasn't thinking rationally, but who does when they have a fever of 103 degrees?  
  
"You really wanted to die?" Hawkeye asked.  
  
I looked in his direction, I think. I shook my head. I was so confused, and so overcome with emotion that I did something that very few people had seen me do. Hawkeye had never seen me do it. He'd seen me laugh, swear, throw up, and recently jump off a moving jeep, but he'd never seen me cry.  
  
This wasn't just weeping tears; this was huge, stifling sobs that came from me. I saw a way out of it, and that chance was gone. I hugged my knees to my chest and put my arms around them, not caring about the bleeding arm from where the IV once was.  
  
When Hawkeye moved towards me again, I didn't resist. Instead, I threw myself weakly at him and sobbed into his shirt. He gathered me up in his arms and rocked me calmly.  
  
I wanted to tell Hawkeye how scared I was, how exasperated I had become. He had seen for himself what I had been driven to. I cried harder.  
  
"It's okay," Hawkeye soothed quietly. "I'm here, Beej." He paused for a moment. "I'll help you, BJ, but not like that. This war has too much death in it already. Tom died. Henry died. I couldn't let you die."  
  
How could I live, though? No sight. No voice. What could I do? Just sit there with my own thoughts? I'd had five days of it and I was on the brink of suicide, what would another forty years do to me? It couldn't be done.  
  
"You can't die, BJ. I won't let you. I'm going to keep you alive or die trying." He took my hand and gripped it to let me know he was serious.  
  
His hand. I just realised a way that I could communicate with Hawkeye. It was simple, and may take practice, but it was a go. I shakily took his hand, and began to write on it with my finger. "SCARED," I wrote.  
  
Hawkeye understood. I think he felt relieved that I could communicate with him. It didn't match the relief I felt. Before, I was shut in my own world, able to take in but unable to feed back, with the exception of telling Hawkeye my symptoms of the virus. Now, at least I could reply to him.  
  
He hugged me tighter. "I know you're scared, Beej. I'm scared too, scared enough for the both of us. You'll get through it, though. I'm here, BJ. I'll help you get through it with you."  
  
I took Hawkeye's hand again and wrote "PAIN" on it. "I know it hurts, but you'll get better. I'm here for you, don't forget that."  
  
Hawkeye continued to rock me until I fell asleep.  
  
"He tried to do what?" Colonel Potter's booming voice woke me up.  
  
"He got Frank's gun and tried to end it all, there and then."  
  
"But, I mean, how did he get out of bed, out of Post-Op and all the way across the compound to the Swamp?"  
  
"You're guess is as good as mine," Hawkeye replied.  
  
"So, what happened?"  
  
"I had to knock him over to get the gun out of his hand," Hawkeye explained. "Even after he was on the floor he tried to go for it."  
  
Colonel Potter was probably silently remembering that look of desperation that he had seen in my eyes only hours before my attempted suicide.  
  
"He just totally broke down. All he could do was cry for ages. Then, he took my hand and spelled out in it, to get me to understand. He spelt 'SCARED' and 'PAIN.'  
  
"Probably two words in the up most of his mind at the moment," the Colonel remarked.  
  
"I sat there with him for hours. He fell asleep there, in my arms. He was so light I carried him by myself back to Post-Op," I heard Hawkeye say.  
  
"He looks like that. So weak," Colonel Potter replied to him. "We need to find this damned answer soon, before he wastes away to skin and bones. Radar's been on the horn constantly over the few days, but still nothing."  
  
"Tell him to keep trying," Hawkeye said. "He has to."  
  
"What's BJ like now, status-wise?"  
  
"Still has a fever, still delirious, still sleeps most of the time. No sight, no voice. He hasn't thrown up recently, though, which is at least one blessing."  
  
"Just one," Sherm muttered.  
  
I decided that now was my cue to wake up. I started to sit up, to get their attention. Two sets of footsteps came over.  
  
"Hey, BJ, how are you?" I flattened my hand and shook it side to side to answer him.  
  
"SIRS!" I could hear Radar screech into Post-Op. "I've got them! The hospital where that guy you're looking for was!"  
  
"Brilliant!" I heard Hawkeye say.  
  
"You go, talk to them," Potter said calmly. "I'll sit with him."  
  
I felt a bit indignant hearing that, as they were talking about me as if I was a child who had been naughty and needed to be watched every moment. Well, actually, perhaps it was in my best interests, judging from my recent actions.  
  
I remembered the words that Colonel Potter had said to me before my escapade. He tried to encourage me, told me that I'd be back on the horse, and I'd let him down. I felt around for Colonel Potter's hand, and flattened it. I took my finger and drew 'SORRY' into it.  
  
"Sorry?" Colonel Potter asked. "Son, you don't have to be sorry. It's not your fault you got what you got, and I'm just sorry we can't help you. Next time you get that low, tell someone, okay?"  
  
I nodded. It would be okay from now on, I knew it inside.  
  
  
  
A/N: This is to the anonymous reviewer in the main: I'm going to be honest and say that I don't have enough medical knowledge to write a story with a real disease in it (hey, I'm just a kid lol!) so I made up the disease. When I read your review saying about Viral Encephalitis (I've never heard of it) I was shocked to see that the symptoms are so similar. I really hope my story didn't offend you or anything like that because I don't set out to do that. I just didn't want to find a real disease and write about it without first-hand experience of it in case I got stuff wrong about it. Thanks for reading. 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
  
Colonel Potter sat and talked to me for a while before I heard Hawkeye rush back in. The Colonel obviously saw the look on Hawkeye's face before he said anything.  
  
"You look as happy as a stud just gone into the field," Potter remarked. "You got good news?"  
  
"Radar here found that guy with the disease," Hawkeye explained brightly. "In one of the hospitals outside of Tokyo. They have a cure, and they're sending it to us."  
  
I heard Potter whoop with joy, and several of the people in the hospital do the same. I heard Hawkeye retake his post beside me. "You hear that, Beej? In a week or so, you'll be back and seeing what a dump this place is."  
  
I stuck my tongue to add to the sarcastic effect on my face, causing Hawkeye to laugh. That's another thing I missed over the last few days. Hawkeye hadn't laughed, and except for surgery and getting drunk, laughing was what Hawkeye did best.  
  
"The medicine will take two days to get here, and another two weeks before you make a full recovery," Potter explained after receiving the details from Radar.  
  
"Hey, what's all the hoo-ha in here?" I heard Frank say.  
  
"We've found the cure for BJ's illness," Sherman explained.  
  
Frank must have sniffed or pulled some kind of face or something, because even Major Houlihan gave him a piece of her mind.  
  
"Major Burns, when one of our colleagues, one of our friends, is very ill, I'd have thought that a compassionate doctor such as yourself would show a little kindness." She may think she's as tough as old boots, but I think me getting ill really rattled some humanity out of her. She'd not said anything negative to Hawkeye since I got ill, for a start.  
  
I searched for Hawkeye's hand, and wrote on it, "DOCTOR?" Hawkeye roared with laughter. It was a standing joke, of course, but after not joking for five days, it becomes fresh all over again.  
  
Finally the medicine came, and I was started on it straight away. It brought the fever down, and with that went the delirium and some of the nausea. Also, my fits stopped.  
  
Hawkeye helped me write a letter to Peg after he read out her latest one to me. It took a long, long time, because I had the write the general picture of it on Hawkeye's hand. It got a bit frustrating, but it finally turned out okay.  
  
One day, I told Hawkeye that I wanted to go for a walk, because being bedridden for almost two weeks (barring my excursion to the Swamp) was getting to be tedious.  
  
"Where do you want to walk to?" Hawkeye asked as I began to ease myself out of bed. I tried to stand up too fast and he had to grab me quickly to stop me falling over.  
  
I found his hand and wrote "AROUND" on it. He understood that I just wanted to stretch my legs. With his help I moved out of the hospital and into the compound.  
  
I could hear some kind of activity to my right. I guessed it was the nurses playing volleyball.  
  
"There's a game of volleyball over there," Hawkeye informed me, seeing my head in what must have been that direction. "Man, I never realised how good Lieutenant Vickers looks in shorts, especially at dusk."  
  
I smiled. Trust Hawkeye to paint a tempting picture.  
  
The sound of the volleyball game was not the only thing I could hear. I just ignored it. It could have been anything.  
  
"Wanna know what's on the bulletin board, except for the lingerie," Hawkeye added.  
  
I nodded as he continued. "Well, for some reason, a meeting to discuss Klinger's sanity was held yesterday. What's to discuss? Next, someone's lined up a cockroach race next week. Bring two representatives per tent." I thought about the two hundred that could have entered from the Swamp, Frank included.  
  
"Someone's written a dirty poem about Majors Burns and Houlihan and posted it here," Hawkeye read. "I won't read it, you're the only one in this camp with any innocence, except for Radar of course," Hawkeye chuckled.  
  
I walked some more over the camp. Just being out of bed was a relief. Then, I remembered the noise I had heard earlier. I could still hear it, but it was much louder, and much closer. It was only when I heard it about ten metres away from me that I realised what it was. We were being shelled!  
  
I tugged at Hawkeye's sleeve, but he already knew. I think he was working out what to do, whether it would be safe enough to take me back to Post-Op. That thought was blown apart when a shell landed behind us, under ten metres away.  
  
Hawkeye literally pulled me somewhere. I heard a door open and shut, and the noise was less. Where were we?  
  
"We're being shelled and we're in the Supply Tent for the moment," Hawkeye explained, almost reading my mind. The first part I had worked out for myself.  
  
He led me over to a cot at the back of the tent and I sat on it. I don't know what he did, but I never thought anymore of it. My thoughts were broken when I heard a booming noise that could have been on top of me. Shards of something, wood probably, rained down on me and I put my arms over my head for protection.  
  
When the shaking stopped, Hawkeye crunched his way through what was on the floor. "Are you okay?" he asked me.  
  
I looked up and nodded. He crunched back and I heard some more banging, getting more and more furious by the second. Then mutterings, "Come on, come on," Hawkeye kept repeating.  
  
My head went up to see what was going on, out of habit, and I almost fell back out of surprise. It was blurred like looking through an ice-cube, and a lot darker, but I could see! Sort of, anyway. At least there was a slight definition between light and dark that I could make out. I wanted to shout aloud and tell Hawkeye, until I remembered I had no voice.  
  
Speaking of Hawkeye, he had his own difficulties at that moment. Breathing fast and heavily, he gasped. "The door's stuck," he groaned. "We're trapped, Beej, we're trapped!"  
  
How was I meant to calm and reassure Hawkeye with no voice? I could hear him pacing around the place as the bombs kept going off outside. I tried to make my way to Hawkeye but it was difficult, and I kept walking into things. All the time he kept muttering.  
  
I knew the symptoms; he didn't have to tell me he was claustrophobic. He did anyway, though. "Beej," he came up to me and grabbed me by my shirt. "Beej, you gotta help me, you gotta get me out of here!"  
  
I shook my head and he roared and pushed my away. I stumbled back into one of the shelves and collapsed on the floor. I only had one moment to gasp before I heard crashing and the huge weight of the metal shelf and its goods crushed me beneath it. 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6  
  
As soon as the shelve hit me, I cried out in pain. It sat diagonally across my just below my stomach, crushing my legs beneath both the shelving and its contents, like boxes, glass bottles and any other medical supplies you'd care to name.  
  
And then it really hit me. I made a sound, from my mouth! Not just a gurgle or a whistle or anything, but a real, half-human sound! Dare I try again, in case I couldn't?  
  
That decision was made for me when a piece of glass pierced my leg and I gasped and cursed in pain. My next concern was for Hawkeye.  
  
"Hawkeye," I called out, my voice wavering and weak, but still there.  
  
"Beej, we're trapped in here! We're never going to get out!"  
  
Hawkeye hadn't actually noticed that for one thing I was trapped under a shelve and whatever was on the shelf before it fell on me, and for another he hadn't noticed that I'd gotten my voice back. At the time, that wasn't my main concern. I needed to calm him down, somehow.  
  
"Hawk," I called again. "Come here."  
  
A simple command, but through the ranting and raving he managed that much. I had to make him feel safe, make him feel that he was in no danger. Being on the floor and in a lot of pain made it difficult.  
  
"Hawkeye, we're going to be fine, okay? As long as you're with me, I won't let anything hurt you."  
  
Hawkeye seemed to understand, and as if wanting more protection he joined me on the floor. I reached up and took him into a comforting hug. I felt his tense form relax and he seemed to be drained. He curled up with his head on my chest. Like he had done with me not so long ago, I rubbed his back soothingly, and it calmed him down.  
  
"Close your eyes," I whispered softly. "Imagine you're on the biggest beach in the world. The sand is soft like powder and goes on for miles. The ocean is endless. The sky is bright blue and the sun is shining. Are you there yet?"  
  
I half felt and half saw Hawkeye nod. His breathing was regular now, as he had calmed down. It was half-surprised that it had worked, because I'd never been in the situation to try it out before. It was the first idea that came into my head so I guessed that I should use it. For a moment, it even took my mind off of the screaming pain in my legs.  
  
"Thanks, Beej," Hawkeye half-whispered.  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For being here," he replied sleepily.  
  
It was nice to be thanked, but I still couldn't forget about what was on top of the lower part of my body. More blood was seeping out of my leg, and it was beginning to make me feel dizzy.  
  
Suddenly, I heard some banging noises coming from outside, and then light flooded into the Supply Tent.  
  
Hawkeye must have heard the noise too, because he opened his eyes and saw the door was open. He immediately jumped off of me and ran outside. Startled by this, I saw Colonel Potter and Klinger. When they saw me under the shelf, their startled expressions turned to those of shocked. I put my hand up feebly to wave at them as they hurried over.  
  
"Klinger, help me get all this off of him," the Colonel commanded, taking part of the shelf. "Don't worry, BJ, Colonel Potter and Klinger here."  
  
"I know," I said, which was probably not a wise move since they almost dropped the shelf back on me in surprise.  
  
"You can talk?"  
  
"You can see?"  
  
Both Klinger and Sherman asked the two questions at the same time, bringing a smile to my pained face.  
  
"Yeah," I replied. "Know what happened? Started raining bombs outside, so Hawkeye and me came in here. The door got stuck. Hawkeye's claustrophobic." I hesitated at the next part, and then continued. "I stumbled badly and fell into the shelf. It obviously wasn't happy because it fell back on me. I managed to calm Hawkeye down a bit."  
  
Sherman wasn't convinced. As he ripped my shirt open to check for other injuries, he asked, "Did the shelf push you back with its hands before it fell on you? If not, why have you got bruises here and here?" He pointed to where Hawkeye had pushed me.  
  
"Some stuff fell on me," I replied quickly. I could tell Potter wasn't buying it, but he let it go. To change his direction of thoughts, I truthfully added, "Please hurry, it hurts badly."  
  
When I was put on a stretcher and taken into Pre-Op, Potter could assess the damage better there. He poked and prodded for some time before concluding, "Broken left femur, and a lot of glass that we're going to have to operate on to get out. That'll have to be done now, because of the loss of blood."  
  
I nodded, feeling myself turning white. I'd done hundred of operations in this place, but being the person being operated on was a totally different game. As they lowered me onto a table in OR, I saw Hawkeye come in, dressed and ready for surgery. Was he really fit to operate?  
  
"I want a local anaesthetic," I demanded.  
  
"No chance," Potter said, giving the signal. Before I knew anything more, the black mask was lowered and the real world seeped away.  
  
I woke up some time later, facing the ceiling in Post-Op. My first realisation was that I had survived and was alive. Well, I had very little chance of dying from an operation as simple as removing glass fragments from my leg. I still didn't understand why Potter put me under in the first place.  
  
"Good morning, how's the patient this morning?" The familiar voice of Hawkeye flooded into my ears. It was not, however, the same voice that I had last heard. That voice was weak, defenceless, and scared. This one was cheery and upbeat, Hawkeye's usual style.  
  
"The patient is doing great, thanks," I said, sitting up in bed. "How about the doctor?"  
  
Hawkeye's face was a mixture of remorse, some guilt, and a lot of seriousness. He pulled up the well-used chair and sat beside me. "I don't know what happened in there but I can guess."  
  
"What do you mean, you don't know what happened?"  
  
"Well, I know we got stuck in there and I went a bit, erm, wild," Hawkeye began. He bent his head closer to me and whispered, "I'm claustrophobic."  
  
I rolled my eyes. "I may not have been 100% in here, but I guessed that much."  
  
"Oh," Hawkeye replied. "I heard you speak in there, and maybe you saw stuff too, but it didn't register."  
  
"Gathered that much, too," I said.  
  
"Colonel Potter said he didn't much like the bruises you got," Hawkeye said, pointing to my chest. "Wondered how you got them."  
  
I said nothing. I wasn't about to remind Hawkeye of what he did. I think he spent a moment staring at the shape of the bruises before it finally hit him, and he clapped his hand over his mouth.  
  
"What?" I asked, as I jumped slightly in surprise.  
  
"Was that. was that me?"  
  
I didn't even have to answer him, he knew.  
  
"Beej," he began, still shocked. "I, I can't believe it! I'm so, so sorry."  
  
I put my hand up to stop him. "Far as I'm concerned, I stumbled into the shelf."  
  
"What? You're just going to forget about it?"  
  
I nodded.  
  
I think Hawkeye was more shock before. "Why?" he asked, barely audibly.  
  
"Well, I know you didn't do it on purpose, and it wasn't really you in there, it was just some guy who took over. I just thought it better to keep what happened our secret."  
  
Hawkeye nodded. It was a very noble gesture, one performed by only the greatest of friends.  
  
"You're great beyond words," Hawkeye told me solemnly. "What would I ever do without you?"  
  
I smiled. I was about to ask him the same thing.  
  
  
  
THE END  
  
  
  
A/N: You all know what my endings of stories are like (rubbish!) but I tried. Thanks for all the reviews, hope you liked the story, and I'll post another soon. (For those who read my first Against The Odds story, it'll be the second on. Watch this space!) 


End file.
